Don’t let the title fool you–it is not meant to imply that Liao believes God supports the “Red” Communist Government. Rather, since Red is the Color of Life in Chinese Culture, it comes from the assertion within the book, by a Christian convert, that God is Life.

The book allows many Chinese Christians to speak for themselves and explain why they find Christianity compelling.

Liao came to this subject in an interesting way. He was originally a musician and a poet. In the wake of Tienanmen Square in 1989 he became a dissident. Being outside of official recognition pushed him into contact with common people from all walks of life. Liao would interview them and interject his own reflections. This method was first evident in his book The Corpse Walker. (If you want to think about “dirty jobs”–how about picking up a corpse and “walking” it back to its village?) In his wanderings, Liao discovered that Christians were some of the few people who 1) seemed to have hope in dire situations and 2) showed real concern for the poor and outcast. The best example of the second impulse comes from a doctor. Although well-trained, he practices his medicine among the Miao people, healing their bodies and supporting the indigenous church.

For this project, Liao decided to focus on Christians in contemporary China. He largely allows the Christians he meets to speak for themselves, so there are long passages of interview transcripts. These “unfiltered” reflections speak powerfully to the experience of Christians in China over the past century.

Four moments encapsulated both the pathos and triumph that has to be part of the story. First, Liao and a friend visit an overgrown graveyard down a side road. It turns out this was part of a European missionary complex in the first half of the twentieth century. The missionaries had been expelled and the compound torn down, but a few memories remained, and churches in the area could still trace their roots to those endeavors. Second, Liao visited a Catholic monastery compound. The only remaining nuns were very old, but they were determined to keep it operating until their deaths and perhaps to see it revitalized with a few younger novices. Third, Liao visited with a Christian family that had suffered under the Cultural Revolution. Family members had suffered physical and psychological torture, and they had lost all of their possessions. Still, they maintained their Christian confession intact. Even that great suffering could not trump their beliefs. Finally, Liao visited a House Church pastor who was under house arrest. He and his family recounted their deprivations, as well as their on-going games of cat and mouse with the authorities. Altogether, these pointed to the weight of official persecution that had occurred, yet how remarkably resilient these Christians were.

In short, this is Chinese Christianity at the ground level. The result is profound.

In the last chapter, though, Liao interviews a young, urban male convert. He seems more interested in Christianity because it’s popular than because of any specific doctrines. This may point to a challenge in the coming years. As the Church expands, how does it continue to engender commitment among growing numbers of converts? On the other hand, continued pressure from authorities (whether directed by Beijing or not) could continue to keep the movement constantly alert.

In the global expansion of Christianity (highlighted a decade ago by Philip Jenkins), the growth in China has to be given a very prominent place. Since solid statistics are impossible to achieve, the exact numbers aren’t currently possible. However, the magnitude is definitely huge. Even more remarkable, this growth has occurred as an indigenous movement. Western Missionaries have been gone for sixty years, but the Church has exploded. Further, the development of the Church in China will continue to be important for World Christianity. To that end, Liao’s book might be read profitably next to David Aikman’s Jesus in Beijing.

Finally, let me say that I think this book would be great to teach. I can’t foresee an opportunity to teach it, but you can be sure that I’m looking for one.

On Tuesday night, I had the privilege of talking about John Jay’s life, his view of religion in public life, and how that fit into a Federalist mind-set. The lecture took place at Cairn University, in Bucks County, suburban Philadelphia. Their president, Todd Williams, was a great host.

It was also a real thrill to talk about John Jay at an event co-sponsored by the John Jay Institute. I think the Institute is doing great work. They have even named me an affiliated scholar.

Then, on Wednesday, I presented a Work-In-Progress Seminar at Princeton. The event was held at Prospect House, the former residence of Princeton Presidents. The event took place in the library, so I was presenting where Woodrow Wilson may once have gone to read.

I presented a chapter on John Jay’s Constitutionalism, which examined Jay’s thought and action during the critical years of the 1780s. I would suggest both Jay’s thought and his actions mattered in helping to place the USA on its constitutional path.

The session went well, and my colleagues offered great input from a range of disciplinary perspectives.

The best comment, though, came from my colleague Adam Macleod, who concluded that I should make up wristbands that said “WWJJD?” for “What Would John Jay Do?” I can already see the marketing tie-ins!

I should also take the opportunity to mention I’m happy to talk about John Jay in public settings for just about anybody who will have me.

One of my goals during my sabbatical has been to attempt to read widely. In other words, I’m been trying to read beyond early American history to other historical fields and even–shockingly–outside of historical works. These explorations will provide plenty of grist for blog posts.

I thought I would start out this series with some reflections on Jonathan Spence’s work Treason by the Book.

Spence is the legendary Yale Historian of China, now emeritus. Over his career, he’s written widely on China. Most students agree that people should start with his Search for Modern China (now, I see, in its 3rd edition). He’s also written on the Chinese Revolution and produced a life of Mao.

But Spence also has a great gift for microhistory. In grad school I read his Memory Palace of Matteo Ricci, a book that caused me to be even more impressed with Ricci than I already was. That’s also apparent in his well-known Death of Woman Wang, as well as in my recent read, Treason by the Book.

In Treason, Spence takes a series of events built around a tendentious suggestion that a general and provincial governor overthrow the Manchu Emperor Yongzheng in the late 1720s. A treasonous letter prompted a manhunt which tracked down the instigator, a scholar by the name of Zeng Jing. While Zeng was in custody, the Emperor managed to convince him of the error of his ways. The Emperor then ordered documents related to the case, closing with Zeng’s complete recantation of his earlier views, published, distributed throughout China, and publicly read at regular intervals.

Spence uses this account to reflect on the nature of governance under the Manchus, the systems of scholars and ties between scholars and the bureaucracy, the political ideologies of Rule, and effects of gossip both in society and at court. So, this one event that never came close to threatening Imperial control could actually illuminate quite a bit about eighteenth-century China.

Let me reflect on the work as an early Americanist. First, as to method, I have to give a “thumbs up” to his use of microhistory. In this case, where Spence has plenty of documentation, it works quite well. I wonder if a parallel could be drawn to John Demos’s Unredeemed Captive, which reflects on events that took place only twenty-five years previous to those Spence describes–albeit on the other side of the globe.

Next, I wonder if some comparative reflections are in order. There’s an interesting comparison to be drawn between the Chinese Imperial order at this time and some Absolutist Monarchies in Europe. I was most impressed by how the Manchus, even though outsiders, had adopted Chinese political culture. For them, the idea of legitimacy was wrapped up with the notion of “the Approval of Heaven.” I realize there’s a great difference theologically, but it seems there’s at least a similarity with Louis XIV claiming a divine right to rule. Further, just as Louis had the bureaucracy to carry out his wishes, so the Emperor had an entire mechanism to spread his decrees to the furthest corners of Chinese rule. By contrast, I don’t think you can see that level of governance in most of European colonies in America, and definitely not in British North America. Of course, the Crown had governors in place, along with other officers, but that didn’t suggest a very significant reach. The Crown was too far away to project the level of control demonstrated in China.

All in all, then, Treason was definitely a good read.

So, for those with more reading in Chinese History than I–any comments on this book or Spence’s contribution generally?

Earlier this week I had the opportunity to be part of a Q&A session featuring Henry Kissinger. At 89, Kissinger was still sharp. Being in the same room with him was a tremendous connection back to many significant figures on the world stage from the mid-twentieth century.

Now, this isn’t meant as a full endorsement–there’s plenty to criticize over Kissinger’s long career. To my money, the best critical biography out there is Jeremi Suri’s.

I’ll also leave aside the foreign policy discussion, although it’s worth noting that last year Kissinger published a book On China.

What really caught my ear, though, was his praise of the liberal arts and especially history.

He encouraged the undergraduates in the crowd to make use of their time in college to read widely. He stated that the best thing for undergraduates to do is to read books for their own sake and to read things they’ll never have time for once they are working.

Further, Kissinger indicated that the best substructure for understanding foreign policy is history. Thus, to understand foreign relations, he encouraged people to understand History and Philosophy. He suggested that would be a better preparation than technical descriptions of the field. Implicit in this was a suggestion that understanding histories and cultures really matter for relating to other nations.

On a related point, Kissinger observed that another extremely necessary component to learn for foreign affairs is Context. And, I would suggest, what discipline better teaches contextual thinking than history?

About Me

My name is Jonathan Den Hartog, and I'm an historian of early America, with a special interest in religion, politics, and their intersection. My current appointment is as an associate professor of history at the University of Northwestern-St. Paul, Minnesota, but this blog represents my own views and does not express the opinions of the institution.